


The Allure of the Dark

by skyeren



Category: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Dom/sub, Dubious Consent, F/M, Kylo Ren Has Issues, Kylo Ren is Not Nice, Rape/Non-con Elements, Read the tags!, You Have Been Warned
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-24
Updated: 2020-08-07
Packaged: 2021-03-04 21:01:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,582
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25482832
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/skyeren/pseuds/skyeren
Summary: You've always been alone. Not in the gloomy, depressed, dark sense, but in the distrusting, independent, determined sense. You couldn't rely on anyone, so you relied on yourself. That's how you became the most silent and successful assassin in the galaxy. Alone is comfortable.You work for whoever hires you and that tends to be higher-ups of the Resistance, meaning when the First Order storms in on one of your missions led by a tall, wicked, beast in a mask, you know you are fucked.What you don't know is that the man in the mask will not just interrogate you, destroy you, and test you, but he will also obsess over you.What he sees in you, you can't understand, but all you know is that if he continues with his crippling obsession, not even being the best, the most dangerous, or the most clever can save you from Kylo Ren.
Relationships: Ben Solo/Reader, Ben Solo/You, Kylo Ren/Reader, Kylo Ren/You, Poe Dameron/You
Kudos: 9





	1. CAPTURED

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You were on Canto Bight - the wealth capital of of Cantonica - to capture a high level First Order Officer who was enjoying his monthly night of relaxation (you didn't even know First Order officers were allowed vacations), when a beast in a mask interrupted you and altered the course of your life forever.

You tug at the hem of your dress. It's a scrap of black silk that squeezes the breath out of your body, and it's short - too short like you're all legs and tits, short - but you have to fabricate confidence to pull off this mission.

"You in position?" Poe's voice beams into your ear.

"Yes," you snap. Yours and Poe's interactions have lost their spark after you shared a short flame that burned bright but burnt out quicker (it was a "relationship" that revealed your plethora of trust issues and emotional unavailability and his need for constant connection). You still hold love for him, but you just aren't ready. Your mind shifts back to the mission.

"Approaching," you report to Poe. You quickly smooth down your hair and scoop your breasts to emphasize them even more. A bumbling man who's all too thin and too loud sits at the bar chatting to nobody with a First Order insignia hidden on his clothing. "Hey there," you fake a smile at the man.

"Well, hello," He looks you up and down, pausing way too long on your breasts. "Drinking alone?" You take a seat next to him, making a point to bump up against his thigh. "Mind if I join you?" He gestures for the bartender to get another drink, and you sip it slowly, making sure to look him in the eyes. You put down your glass, circling the rim with your pointer finger. 

"Can I tell you a secret?" You ask. "Of course, sweetheart." He smirks. You lean into him, making a point to squeeze your breasts into his chest as you softly breathe in his ear, "I love a man in uniform." He moans as you trace your finger up his thigh, successfully distracting him as your other hand quickly and expertly drips some liquid into his drink.

"You do? Let's drink to that!" He picks up his glass and clashes it against your own. "Cheers," you smile and down the drink in one gulp along with the man. Soon, he's swaying in his seat, nearly passing out when you catch him in your arms. "Shh...it's ok. It'll be ok," you whisper into his ear, trying to make it seem like he's had one too many.

You drag him out of the Casino, ready to bring him back to the Resistance for questioning when a bright light blinds you. A ship is crashing onto the surface, shaking the Earth beneath you. "Fuck!" You yelp and drop him to the ground. "Poe! Poe! Mission failure. The First Order is here. I'll see you on the other side." You yell into your earpiece. "What? (Y/N), NO!" But you can't hear the rest as you rip it out of your ear and crush it beneath your heels. You try to run, but stormtroopers surround you. You were ready to try and fight your way out when you suddenly couldn't move. "What the fuck?" You screech. A tall, dark beast stands before you; his hand extended: Kylo Ren. The Jedi Killer. The strongest force-user in the galaxy.

For some odd and probably demented reason, you smile. "Ok, ok, you got me! Good job! But now you'll have to kill me!" You exclaim. You push against his hold, nearly and inexplicably finding your way out of the force users’ invisible grasp when everything goes dark.

____

You were always different. Most little girls obsessed over dolls or their dresses, but you obsessed over the grass’s feeling and how it connected to the trees, the animals, the air. Everything - all life - had always been connected, and you could feel it surge through you from your little toes to your fragile fingertips.

However, when your parents abandoned you for their pointless lives of addiction, and you were left alone to face the dangers of the galaxy, you realized that this connectivity could only bring more harm than good. You had seen what they did to people who were even rumored to have the Force (not that you thought you had it, you just thought they could mistake your "spirituality" for it). So you learned how to defend yourself, how to get around unnoticed, how to tap into your power without using that pull inside, but instead using knives, blasters, and your bare hands.

But now you know that was all for nothing. Because nothing can save you from the wrath of Kylo Ren, nothing can save you from the inevitable darkness you are about to face head-on. You had trained to be captured as an in-field agent, not a secret Jedi (or whatever he thinks you are), and now that he's suspecting you to be one, all you need to do is escape. He will - without a doubt - kill you slowly and painfully.

Your stream of depressing thoughts is interrupted by the sound of a door opening. His get-up looks dense, and his helmet makes him seem like a machine, not a man. You couldn't help but smile. He looked like a villain out of some dystopian robot killer movie. All of your anxiety washes away.

"Do you find something amusing?" His robotic voice scratches at your ears.

You giggle. "No, Commander, definitely not, sir," but you can't seem to stop laughing. This is all so fucked. He storms towards you and grabs you by the neck, pulling you up to come face to face is black armor. He's choking the life out of you. 

You swear you're turning red by now, and just when you're about to pass out, he removes his hand. You're a sputtering mess.

"Well, if you wanted to get kinky, you should have just asked first," you grin. He slaps you across the face. The iron-taste of blood fills your mouth, and you laugh hysterically.

"You're an insolent little thing," He observes. You roll your eyes. "Maybe I'm just bored. You've had me locked in here for hours, and I haven't been asked a single question. Who are you? Who do you work for? What's your bra size?" You laugh at your lame attempt of a joke. 

"Enough!" He slaps you again. More blood pours into your mouth, and you spit it out to your side as you laugh so violently the entire table shakes. "Harder!" You tease, "You hit like a little bitch!" 

Kylo pulls your hair, bringing you up to meet his cold mask. "One more word out of you and I will pull every organ inside of that tiny body of yours out of your fucking throat." 

Ok, he successfully freaked you out. But only a little. 

"What do you call yourself?"  
"My name is Agent (Y/N) (Y/L/N) of Cantonica," you respond, blankly. 

"Who do you work for?" There you go! The golden question!

"Whoever hires me," you smile. 

"What were you doing kidnapping one of my highest ranking officers?"

"A job. For money. A girl's gotta eat." 

"You realize that your partnership with the resistance has made you one of the most wanted people in the galaxy. You're a treasonous whore." 

"Don't call me a whore. I'm resourceful. And talented. And I bet I gave you a good run for your money, Ren," you spit at him. 

"No. You're a glorified hitman. You're a nobody who can fight slightly above average. What interests me, little one, is your connection to the force." He lightly strokes your forehead. 

"Don't fucking touch me," you exclaim. "I'll do what I like," he snaps back. He quickly backs away and faces the door once again. He is stopping only to remove his mask with a loud hissing noise. 

His hair is black with loose curls. It frames his pale face and thick eyebrows. His lips are oddly pink and plump. Perfect for kissing. He’s astonishingly beautiful. Goddammit, you wish he was a deformed sicko, not a hot one. 

He starts to leave but stops to remark: "You know I can take whatever I want."


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Force is strong with this one.

Three days. Kylo leaves you tied to a table for three days. You know of this tactic; he’s attempting to rid you of any hope or fight you have left in you.

But three days is nothing. Your parents left you abandoned for weeks before you came to the sad realization that you would have to fend for yourself for the rest of your life. You could barely get water, let alone food or shelter. Kylo doesn’t know that this isn’t torturing you; this is just an homage to your difficult childhood. 

On the fourth day, your skin is a pale white. You feel like you can see through yourself. Purple bruises litter your body. You’re weighed down by the bags under your eyes. You almost let yourself feel hopeless - almost - but Kylo storms into your tiny cell, his heavy steps bouncing off the metal walls.

“Traitor,” he spits, “I want answers about your use of the force, and you will give them to me.”

You stare through his black mask. Your face is hard, jaw clenched. 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you croak.

“Look at you,” he admires your state, “you’re so delicate. Weak. I could break a bone without even trying.” His gloved hand grabs your jaw. “Tell me about your connection with the force.”

“I don’t have a connection with the force. If I did, I would be dead,” you attempt to smile.

“You see, I would believe that, but you nearly escaped my grasp on Canto Bight. You can’t do that unless you’re strong with the force,” he questions you. You stare back at him, saying nothing. 

He steps away, frustrated, and removes his helmet. He slams it onto a table of ash. There’s that cruel, beautiful face. “If you won’t give it to me, I’ll just have to take it from you.”

He comes to your side in one swift step, his hand positioned in front of your face. It feels like someone is ripping apart each facet of your brain, and you hiss in pain. You try to fight whatever he’s attempting as best you can, but memories soon come flooding in. 

_

Little girls are playing with their dolls in the sand. You’re annoyed. Your mom is making you hang out with them. You huff and walk towards the house, exasperated. All you want is to grab your mom’s helmet to play bounty hunter. You trudge into the run-down kitchen and see her helmet on a high counter. Dang! There’s no way you can reach that. You stand on your tiptoes and reach as far as you can, stretching out your small body as far is it can go. Your face is turning red, and a bead of sweat drips off your brow when you suddenly feel a pull. The helmet flies toward you. You squeal with excitement until you hear a loud crash. Your mother dropped her plate of smelly looking food in shock. “Honey, whatever you just did, you have to promise me that you’ll never do it again. Ever. Can you promise me that, sweetie?” She’s frantic. You nod, confused. “Ok, ok,” she murmurs as she pulls you into a tight hug. She leaves you three months later. 

_

“Stop!” You scream, “please,” but you’re pulled into another memory.

_

You’re a teenager now. You are going to a well-known bar in Cantonica to find some work maybe or take a load off. Hopefully both. You look tired, worn out. You’re wearing some pants you found and a tank top you’ve had since you were a child. You look as hopeless as you feel. After around three shitty drinks and a dirty look from the bartender, you wander into the restroom. Two men storm in. You know what this is. You know people in Cantonica will do anything to make money. They angrily approach you while making disgusting comments. The men start to feel you up, and you can feel yourself breaking just a little more with each unwelcome touch. “Get the fuck off of me,” you growl. “Oh, she’s feisty,” one of them smiles, “I wanna keep her!” That triggers something inside of you. You try to fight both of them off at once, but your abilities aren’t advanced enough yet. They have you pinned down, and you struggle in their grasp. “Let me go,” you plead, but these men won’t have it. They start to pull your pants down and lift up your tank top when a burst of energy flows through you, and you pin them to the wall. They’re choking. You keep holding them there until you see the life leave their eyes. You run out of the bar. What the fuck did you just do?

_

“STOP! NO!” You cry, thrashing on the table. 

_

Poe, Poe, Poe, Poe. It’s all you can think about. Your relationship with him has been complicated for you, but you find yourself gravitating towards his light more and more each day. You’re lying in bed, stroking the side of his cheek as he sleeps. You can’t help but admire him. Suddenly, an image is projected into your mind. Poe is with Kaydel, confiding in her about you. You see his pull to her, their emotional connection. Her hand encloses over his, and the talking stops. Is this a dream? Or a memory? He suddenly leans in to kiss her. You’ve seen enough. You knew he would leave you. Everybody does. You’re too broken. A lonely tear falls down your face, and you hurry out of his bed, quickly pulling over your sweater and pants. He stirs. “Where are you going?” He groans. 

“I’m going back home, Poe. I completed my mission with the resistance last week. I should’ve left then,” you explain as you rifle through your purse’s contents to find your keys. “Wait, you’re not joining us? I thought-” “You thought nothing, Poe. Listen, this has been fun and all, but I don’t do long-term, ok? See you the next time they hire me,” you hiss and storm out of his shitty quarters. You don’t know how you saw what you saw, but you needed to. You had almost forgotten your number one rule: trust nobody.

_

You’ve had enough. Fuck Kylo Ren. You start pushing the energy that he’s directing towards you back at him, full-force. A memory appears: _ Han and Leia are arguing over him, over the dark extent of his abilities with the force. “It’s unnatural!” Han exclaims as Leia hisses at him to quiet down. He trudges up to his room and falls onto his bed. He’s alone. He’ll always be alone. Nobody understands him, and nobody cares to. His parents are rarely present. He doesn't want to be Ben Solo. 

_

Kylo storms towards you, his hand wrapping around your throat in anger. “You’re stronger than I thought,” he growls. 

“You’re Ben Solo?” You chuckle in disbelief, “I thought he was dead.” 

“He is. You should be.” He stares through you. “Food and water are coming, traitor. If you want to live you will dedicate yourself and your abilities to the First Order.” He storms out of the room as quickly as he came in, helmet in hand. 

You haven’t fought your whole life because you have some incredible moral compass or a desire to make a name for yourself, you’ve fought to survive. So you guess that’s what you’ll have to do now. Under the eye of Kylo Ren, however, survival is unlikely.


End file.
